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“Would it help if I said that I regret my actions with regard to Mitch’s extraction?”
“Because those actions didn’t give you the result you wanted?”
He laughed in an easy way that was either genuine or extremely well practiced. “Partially, Claudia. Partially. But my main concern now is that he might believe we’ve become adversaries and could be looking for revenge. What I did was a business decision. In retrospect, the wrong one. But a battle between us would be expensive for all parties involved.”
“I doubt that’s on his mind.”
“Then maybe he should come into plain sight and demonstrate his goodwill.”
“He could be dead.”
“I admit that would take a weight off my mind, but I doubt I’m thatlucky. Particularly in light of the fact that I suddenly can’t locate Scott Coleman or any of his men.”
“I wouldn’t know anything about that,” she said, aware that her lies were becoming increasingly transparent as the conversation went on.
“I don’t want a war, Claudia. But if one comes, we both know I have the resources to fight it.”
“If I hear from him, I’ll pass on your message.”
“That’s all I can ask. Thank you, Claudia.”
The line went dead, and she let out a long breath before continuing on. When she finally entered the corral, Anna looked a bit disappointed. Dinner was just the first step in a series of events that included bath, pajamas, story time, and finally bed.
Her instructor helped the girl dismount and she trudged reluctantly toward her mother. When she got close, Claudia crouched and held out her arms. “Why don’t you give me a really humongous hug?”
“How come?”
“Because I need it.”
CHAPTER 38
WESTERNSYRIA
RAPPkicked the bike’s starter and it fired right up. Feathering the throttle, he maneuvered it around the building, testing the steering and brakes as he wove through the remaining debris. Satisfied that everything was fully functional, he shut it down.
“Sounds better than it looks,” Coleman observed as he descended the stairs.
“I think it’ll get me where I need to go.”
“Which is?”
Rapp didn’t give an answer and the former SEAL didn’t really expect one. He was making a joke about the oppressive need-to-know nature of this particular operation. Irene Kennedy had involved herself, but with the understanding that secrecy was paramount. This was as far off the books as it could get without falling off the edge of the earth.
Ironically, they’d set the operation up very much like the terrorist cells they’d spent their lives fighting. Mostly two-man teamswith no knowledge of each other or the mission they’d signed on to. Communications were carried out via encrypted texts and chat rooms, and limited to narrow instructions regarding times, places, and equipment. The Arab members of their team were handling most of the preparation due to their ability to blend in, while Coleman’s American contingent were carrying out tasks that would allow them to stay out of sight. Where exactly they were doing all this, Rapp had no idea. It was information he neither needed nor wanted. He didn’t plan on getting captured, but if he did, the more compartmentalized his knowledge, the better. In fact, he’d have preferred to also be in the dark about the final objective, but that cat was out of the bag. The Agency had experimented with erasing those kinds of specific memories a half century ago, accomplishing nothing but to create a highly classified disaster. Too bad. It would have been a useful trick.
“How long until I should start to worry about you?” Coleman asked. “You can tell me that much, right?”
“I’ll send you a text asking for Joe’s location. Give me five hours.”
“And if I don’t hear from you by then?”
“Then you’re not going to. Pack up and get everyone out of here.”
“Understood.”
He kicked the bike back to life and started toward the bay door. Coleman opened it and Rapp gave one last command as he passed through.
“Don’t use the compressor.”
